My Yakuza Lineage and Otaku Nature Ruin my Teenage Romance
by AkaiArsony
Summary: After a failed confession and his life going downhill, Makoto Yuuki becomes secluded from the reaches of the real world. What happens next when a dad who's supposed to be gone claims him, he learns to love again, and he gets told to start training to become the next head of the Yakuza? Find out as Makoto's Yakuza lineage and otaku tendencies ruin his teenage romance!
1. Chapter 1

**My Yakuza Lineage and Otaku Nature Ruin my Teenage Romance**

* * *

DISCLAIMER: Persona 3 is owned by ATLUS. I don't.

* * *

"PLEASE GO OUT WITH M-ME!"

". . . .Eh?"

The orange that painted the late afternoon sky was the ideal color to have as your background in an afterschool confession. Coupled with the fact that it was in a secluded place and that Yukari was my childhood friend, there was no mistake that I had a 99.99% chance of getting a positive answer to my confession. After all, the guy never gets rejected, especially in galgames—

"I'm sorry, Makoto-kun. But I won't go out with you."

"Huh?" I reacted, my jaws slacking down in shock. "W-why not?" The brunette in front of me giggled, and looked at me in the eyes.

And hers reflected pity. Her irises told me that her thoughts went like "is this a joke?"

She put a finger near her chin, looking like a cliché version of a smart detective trying to think through things. "Well, you're an otaku for starters. And even if we are childhood friends, it's not like I had feelings for you, y'know? Besides I already like someone else." She then flashed a smile, one that would haunt me for god knows how long.

* * *

. . . . .

_That dream again._

I groggily rose up from my bed, and searched for the alarm clock.

5:30am.

Part of the routine I have developed was waking up early and fixing whatever it was that I had to in the house before I got to school. Other than that, for some totally unknown reason, my body clock has always been like this – late to bed, early to wake.

After having fixed my bed, I opened the curtains and began a quick scan of my room – my laptop was still turned on, various articles of clothing littered the floor, snack packs and empty ramen cups piled into the small trash bin, and piles of manga were strewn all over.

_Yep, it was the usual bedroom scenario of a shut-in._

Though most people picture this sort of environment for shut-ins like me, I developed the habit of cleaning up every morning after a long night of doing nothing but being, well, an otaku. Also, like the usual shut-in, I was the clichéd type of who has no friends, keeps playing games, watches anime and reads manga, collects otaku goods, and **has no friends.**

"Dammit, where're my glasses?"

Having fixed the calamity rubble in my room, I went downstairs and got ready to prepare breakfast.

You may wonder: "where the _hell _are this kid's parents?" Well, for one – my Mom's dead. Her passing away has only been last month, partly due to tuberculosis and partly because of depression over my Dea – I mean, Dad. My Dead, I mean **Dad**, has been declared "dead" last month; after having disappeared on his fateful trip to Italy, he never came back. Not one postcard from the douche. Not one phone call to my mom or me. All everyone could assume was that he was as dead as a doorknob.

Next question would be: "where'd he get his cash to live by himself?!" The answer to that's simple – I work part time. I disappear a lot from school because I work for 5 different jobs a day on Mondays, Thursdays, and Saturdays. I made do with what my mom had left me, and soon studied hard to attain a scholarship and persevered to get accepted into jobs, even if I was still underage.

"Oh, toast's done."

Thinking back, my life going downhill all started from _that_, just last year. _That_ time had left me feeling the most pathetic and humiliated, shrinking into a shell of my former self.

Yukari Takeba.

She was my childhood friend – the sort that was classmates with me ever since kindergarten. She'd been my neighbor for as long as I could tell. Over the years, I started thinking of her as less of a friend and more of a love interest. We had such a good relationship as friends, that I thought I had a chance at confessing.

How wrong I was.

I was rejected outright, then and there. I had planned everything – I checked the weather for the perfect sunset scenario, checked the school schedule to see if any late afterschool club members would pass by, played 50 different games to simulate the situation, and practiced in front of a mirror.

Her reason for having liked someone else, I could understand – but the other reason she gave sank into my brain like venom, slowly paralyzing my senses and driving me to an internal death.

_Well, you're an otaku for starters._

Coupled with her pitying smile and condescending look, I couldn't look at Yukari the same way. Sure, she's known that I've been an otaku most of my life, but only to an extent; I still prioritized my studies, I was supposed to be the next captain of the kendo team, I had friends, and I was part of the student council.

That day, I forced the most painful smile that could have formed on my face, and wished her luck in pursuing the person who interested her. At that, she smiled sincerely and even asked us "to remain friends."

I hurriedly made an excuse of having to watch anime, and ran – with all the strength I could muster. Back to the comforts of home; to my room, where no other would see me in my most vulnerable.

For the next two weeks after that, I didn't come to class, nor did I come out of my room. Everyday, Mom would knock and ask me what was wrong or if I wanted to talk about something. Her sincere and warm tone was what eased me, but I still refused to come out, nor say anything.

For those two weeks, I only slipped out a sheet of paper under the door for some things I had wanted, like food or drinks. After I gathered the courage to go to school again, I asked the principal himself to give me a privilege to take exams in advance and still earn credits without coming to school much. I stopped talking to my friends. I was always alone on the roof. But there was one thing in school that tore me more than anything else:

Yukari Takeba was acting like normal in front of her so-called friends, and just kept greeting me like **nothing happened.**

Yukari Takeba was **always** hanging out with the man she mentioned as her interest; and it turned out to be Kurota-senpai, the current head of the kendo team at that time.

And Yukari Takeba spoke out loud to her friends, with all her heart, about how otakus were just **plain annoying, with nothing useful to do in their lives.**

That was the last straw.

I quit kendo.

I quit the student council.

I became the target of bullying.

I grew more and more withdrawn in my room.

Mom got sick. Dad never came back.

I had to find jobs to support Mom.

Dad was declared dead.

Mom died.

I was alone. None of my relatives wanted me.

I was just **plain annoying, with nothing useful to do in my life.**

Finishing breakfast, I hurriedly bathed and changed into my school uniform. I decided to stop brooding over the past and continue as I have – I would graduate, get a course as a programmer, and work in the gaming industry. Heck, maybe I had a chance at landing a job at Sony, if I was good enough.

After having made sure that the house was secure, I rushed out the neighborhood and went to the usual route to school. Going through Iwatodai Station, I rode the train bound for Port Island.

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, as I strolled through Port Island Station, I heard a scream coming from the outskirts. No good rumors ever circulated about the outskirts – it was filled with delinquents, majority from Gekkoukan High, hanging out with the wrong crowd.

Sighing, I went to take a look, and made sure that I was as discreet as possible to avoid unwanted attention. Three delinquents were surrounding a teal-haired girl, who also wore the uniform from Gekkoukan. The three punks had that clichéd smug looks; faces that even their moms would have refused to love. The girl shook, fear painted on her face.

"C'mon, ojou-chan, let's have some fun!"

"Yeah, we've seen ya a lot around in Port Island Station, whenever ya go home! Lucky your bodyguards ain't with ya today! Kukukuku!"

"Sooo, Whaddya say? Hehehehehe. . ."

The girl had her eyes shut, and fell to the ground. "P-please, leave me alone! D-don't hurt me!"

Tears were already streaming down her eyes, and I couldn't stand it anymore.

_C'mon, Yuuki! Ain't ya fightin' back?! C'MON! Hahahahaha!_

_Hey, give your money here, fscktard! Or do you want nasty rumors about you to spread?!_

_Want your Portable back? Then take it!_

_Where's Mommy now, huh, Yuuki?! No one ain't gonna be there when you cry!_

I never fought back, even if I could. I had no reason to – someone as **annoying as an otaku** like me deserved nothing in this society.

It was fine if I was bullied. Just not someone like her.

My legs moved on their own. My own bitterness fueled me.

"Hey, you morons."

The three punks, together with the teal-haired girl, turned to me.

"Waddya want, arsehole?!"

I walked to a nearby garbage bin and took its metal lid. Thinking back to my favorite Captain America comic book, I toyed with the lid a bit.

And threw it at the baldy.

I then rushed in, and kneed the one with the limited edition Ash Ketchum cap (damn, I always wanted one), and then took bag and whacked the one with an afro right in the face. I moved for the girl, carried her bridal-style, and broke into a sprint.

* * *

"You okay? Hey, are you. . . ."

"Zzzzzz. . ."

"Asleep, huh."

The only sanctuary I could think of was the school – both of us were students there, anyway. I took her immediately to the infirmary, with Mr. Edogawa giving me a surprised look Mr. Edogawa was also an early bird to school). After explaining the situation, he gave me a nod and proceeded out the infirmary, saying something like "putting wards outside the school gate."

Apparently, the girl had fainted after I had brought her to school. Before having gone, Mr. Edogawa did only one look and told me that the girl was anemic, which was the possible reason for her loss of consciousness. After tucking her in, I went out and proceeded to the classroom.

* * *

It had been another draggy day. And as usual, I was subjected to Mr. Ekoda's failed attempts at public humiliation due to my "advantageous" location in the class. Apparently, I was the only student who could "guess the right answer" after taking a nap during Classic Literature.

If this was a manga and I was a protagonist, I'd be seated near the window at the far back, staring with melancholy at the sky. I'd have many friends and spend lunch with them at the roof, enjoying the view and dumb conversations we'd have. And soon, I'd make a confession under a sunset at the back of—

Nevermind. Let me stop there.

Up on the roof, I was silently eating the bento I had prepared and enjoying it to the minimum. I stared far into the noon sky, wondering about what would have become of me if I had succeeded _back then—_

_No. Everything happens for a reason. It's just that mine happened in the crappiest way possible._

I had accepted it as a sign of forever being alone, coupled with the fact that I was literally alone in the house. No family. No friends. No love. Nothing at all.

My ties with the world have become solely materialistic – the things I've thus far collected as an otaku. Games were a place to let off some steam; manga let my mind wonder; and anime let me enjoy the fictional world that it had very well solidified in this world.

As I continued to brood, a strong gust of wind began blowing through the roof, and a very loud sound resounded overhead.

A helicopter was approaching the roof.

I stood up, and as soon as I did, a ladder came out of the flying vehicle. Out came men wearing sunglasses and suits; and what surprised me was the fact that they carried weapons – guns, katanas, and many more. Before I could make a run for it, one last man came out and with him was a megaphone.

"Are you Makoto Yuuki?!" he shouted.

"E-eeh?!"

"I asked, are you Makoto Yuuki?!"

"Y-yes, I am!"

The man began walking, and soon faced me in front. He took off his red sunglasses (whoa, they look like the kind Slash wears!) and looked me in the eyes.

"My name is Tatsuya Suou, right hand to the leader of the Yakuza. By the will of your father, the current head, you are to start training to become the next head of the whole Yakuza group residing in Japan!"

* * *

Read and review. Sorry if Velvet Room, Inc. hasn't been updated for a while – I'm busy IRL and I've also taken time to polish my writing and continue fics that have stayed incomplete in my hard drive. I'll be updating this soon, and depending on the feedback, I might or might not continue this. Shall we say, this is experimental? :D

~Arsony


	2. Chapter 2

**My Yakuza Lineage and Otaku Nature Ruin my Teenage Romance**

* * *

DISCLAIMER: Persona 3 is owned by ATLUS. Not a single shred of it is mine.

* * *

Fuuka Yamagishi's life was something she considered to be the very manifestation of misfortune and despair.

Right off the bat after she was born, she had been abandoned by her parents. She had learned later that her father had a heavy debt to the Yakuza, and decided that instead of paying back the money he had borrowed; his daughter would be the exchange – his and his wife's necks would be spared, and Fuuka would become a servant to the Yakuza as she grew up.

Truthfully, from the eyes of the unknowing public, Fuuka's role as a servant to the large group of bloodthirsty men situated in Japan would be equal to a living hell. That was not the case.

At first, it had all felt so strange and unfamiliar to her. She refused to speak in front of the fellow maids she was soon to become one of, and frequently locked herself in her small room by the servant quarters. She would brood days on end about why her parents valued their lives more than hers.

Soon enough, she began to open up.

Growing up in the main household's mansion in the small town of Inaba, she was never treated like dirt, nor was she abused in the most horrible of ways; she aged, and learned of the various tasks that the maids had to do, such as cleaning, cooking, laundry, and the likes. They also served as the very family she misses, spending time with her, chatting with her, teaching her how to read and write, and helping her in any way they can.

As she matured, she understood the real reason why the Yakuza had existed, and their aim was far from the assumptions of the common man. She learned of it when she was finally 14 years of age, straight from the mouth of the current head.

"Fuuka-chan, I hope that you continue to honor the cause of the Yakuza even after the secrets I have told you."

Fuuka nodded and bowed; a gentle smile evident on her face. "Even without the revelation of such a cause, I am bound by gratitude to serve those who have saved me from misfortune."

The head chuckled. "Then, when the time comes, I shall leave my son in your capable care, as I know you are still to become a better practitioner of the trade you employ here as an aid to the Yakuza."

Keeping the head's words close to heart, she waited patiently for the coming of the next head. None of the current members belonging to the lower hierarchies, nor the maids, knew of the identity of the head's child; however, they were assured of the heir's legitimacy as a son holding the **blood** of the head.

* * *

On her stroll to school on this specific day, she declined the usual routine of having herself be accompanied by one of the head's guards (as the head had usually prescribed), as she had been confident that nothing bad ever happens to her, and that dangerous kinds of people won't be around that much. Much to her expectations, while on her way through Port Island Station, she had become the target of three goons.

Suddenly grabbed from behind, Fuuka was dragged into a deserted corner of Port Island Station and was put into a dangerous situation for the first time of her life.

"C'mon, ojou-chan, let's have some fun!"

"Yeah, we've seen ya a lot around in Port Island Station, whenever ya go home! Lucky your bodyguards ain't with ya today! Kukukuku!"

"Sooo, Whaddya say? Hehehehehe."

Fear and terror gripped her senses; her legs had lost all traces of strength, and she slumped to the ground, clutching her head with her hands in fright. "P-please leave me alone! D-don't hurt me!"

_S-someone. . . . Please. . . ._

_Help. . . me. . ._

_P-plea—_

"Hey, you morons."

A flash of blue; mere seconds turned into moments lasting forever into the recesses of the teal-haired girl's memories.

As she saw her captors fall one by one, she had been brought back to the usual speed of life's moving time as she had felt her body be lifted and taken away. Looking up for a moment, she saw the bearer of the warm hold that had swiftly taken her away from danger.

Long locks of sapphire dangled from his head; a messy tide that covered part his face's right side.

But the features that had attracted Fuuka the most before fading away and losing consciousness was no more than –

His eyes.

Framed in place by the sharp-looking glasses he wore. Dark irises that sparked a flame of bravery and strength; yet reflected a similar amount of sadness, sorrow, and pain.

And darkness gripped Fuuka's senses, lulling her to sleep before she could've pondered any longer about the blue-haired boy.

* * *

"I wonder where he could be."

It was already noontime, yet Fuuka had steeled herself that if she were to lose the opportunity to eat lunch just to find her savior, and then lose her lunch she shall.

After having woken up in the infirmary, Fuuka was surprised after hearing from Mr. Edogawa that she had been out cold almost the whole of the morning. After recalling the events that had transpired from her walk to school until to her rest in the school's infirmary, she quickly left the nurse's office with a bow for Mr. Edogawa and rushed to find the blue-haired boy she so wanted to thank.

Having no luck seeing him through the main routes through school or in any of the classrooms and even the school cafeteria, Fuuka had decided to go for one of the more secluded places any person would undoubtedly think of.

The school roof.

Soon enough, she had nearly finished her trek through the dusty staircase when she had found some very significant signs showing that the roof was indeed occupied:

"The door's open . . . and the flights have footprints on them, the grooves embedded on the dust. . ."

Though she may have been trained with a major background in doing housework, she, together with the other maids, has been trained to hone their senses and reflexes befitting of individuals working for the Yakuza. And among the servants, Fuuka's skills of observation were on a level far higher from anyone else's.

As she reached for the doorknob, she caught sight of the blue-haired boy, eating all alone, through the very small opening of the door.

"That's . . . him!"

And once she had mustered her strength to go and give her gratitude to the lad, she heard an all too familiar tune from her pocket.

"My phone's ringing. . . . who could be calling now?"

Taking her phone out, she flipped it open and after seeing the all too familiar name of an important contact, she decided that thanking the boy could for a moment or two.

"Hello? Fuuka Yamagishi speaking."

"_Hey there, Fuuka. How was the travel to school today?"_

"Well, I. . . um, I know I can't say it was fine since you guys must've used some sort of surveillance on me right?

"_Can't deny that completely. As a matter of fact, we did – and we would like to apologize for that. You were in a tough pickle, and we reacted too late there. But all's well that ends well, right?"_

Fuuka grinned. "Luckily someone was in the area. I was saved back there."

"_Glad you're fine. To get to the main point, please go to the school gate. A limousine will be waiting for you there. We need everyone back at HQ."_

The girl could detect unease in the speaker's voice. "Why's that? School isn't even over yet."

"_Well, head's orders. Something big's come up, and the head wants to speak with everyone about it. He even gave emphasize to 'especially Fuuka'."_

". . . . I see." All hesitation lost, Fuuka shut her eyes for a moment and serious expression now painted her face. She then turned and began her descent from the rooftop. _I guess I'll have to thank him tomorrow – maybe I can even make bento!, _she thought, giggling a bit.

"I'm on my way to the school gate. What's the meeting about?"

Even if Fuuka was only a maid, the head's favoring of her has given her a good reputation amongst some of the higher-ups, that she was entrusted information at times that the head wished it so.

"_It's about the next heir – the head thinks __**he's**__ ready to succeed the seat for the next generation."_

"-!? I-is that true?!"

"_Better believe it. Gotta run, Fuuka. Things to fix and preparations to do. I'm tasked to take the heir back to HQ. Take care, 'kay?"_

"Thank you very much. You too, Tatsuya-nii."

Reaching the black limousine parked by the school gate, Fuuka gave one last look at the school roof, making a mental memo so as to not forget the lad she had to thank her life for. Entering the vehicle, she soon spotted one of the Yakuza's choppers heading for the school.

_Was the heir really a student at Gekkoukan? Oh, and I hope they land the chopper properly on the school grounds._

And as the limousine drove further away from the school, the teal-haired girl never got to see the helicopter pick up the very sole resident of Gekkoukan High's rooftop and take a certain blue-haired boy get in the vehicle.

* * *

**Sort of a filler. It's just that I'm having fun writing, but I don't want to rush developments so fast – I also need to make adjustments to fit things rather well in the story.**

**By the way, though there would be multiple love interests, I'll be focusing on one girl for the real relationship Makoto is to have. Guess who the girl is! Get it right, and get a cyber cookie from yours truly! Yes, I have come to a decision that I'll be continuing this!**

**Please leave a review. It fuels my drive to write when I see people enjoy what I write. **

**~Arsony**


	3. Chapter 3

**My Yakuza Lineage and Otaku Nature Ruin my Teenage Romance**

* * *

DISCLAIMER: Persona 3 is owned by ATLUS. I don't.

* * *

"Are things going according to plan?"

"Yes, they are. In fact, they seem to be playing out way better than we had anticipated."

The figure of the man who had inquired was sat lazily on the chair positioned upon the very head of a long table. The other who had answered simply stood nearby, fixing what seemed to be the spectacles on his face.

Faint moonlight gave light to parts of the room, though the furniture was still unrecognizable under this partial luminance. The one seated let out a chuckle, and shifted on his seat. "Well, well, well. Seems like ol' Takaya and Jin were right about this one. But, damn it – I'm _really_ itchin' ta fight right now." He pulled out two swords from each of his sides, and traced circles in the air with the both.

The bespectacled figure adjusted his posture, and stepped back a little. "Patience, please. You do know that any action done right now would be of great consequence, right? After all, we still have to rely on the plan for this completely work."

"Tch. You don't have to tell me twice. By the way, you made sure to hide **that** **thing** properly? God knows what might happen if we lose that crap."

"Oh, don't worry. I have taken every step to make sure that the family does not find it. If you would like some assurance, **they** are currently searching for it in Japan. Surely, **they'll **be clashing with those **hot-blooded buffoons **sometime soon."

The seated figure straightened up, interest growing towards his colleague's statement. "Oh? Is that a fact? Hehe. . . Hahahahahahahaha! Great job, Ikutsuki! Damn, now _I_ wanna go to Japan! Carnage, battles, conflict! What I wouldn't do right now for a good fight!"

Ikutsuki chuckled, and walked towards the door leading out of the room. "Oh, you'll be fighting soon enough, that I can assure – and intel says that since **their heir** has just recently come of age, **the lad** is now to succeed the current head. Who knows, he might pose a threat; one you'll want to personally take care of, right?"

"Keh, damn straight. I guess I'll wait for a li'l longer 'til the guy grows a pair of balls. Keep me posted, alright Ikutsuki?"

Ikutsuki grabbed the doors and opened them, and turned to face the figure on the chair one more time and bowed, obviously a gesture of respect.

"As you wish, Minazuki-sama."

And as he shut the door, Ikutsuki could see a faint red color begin to envelop the room.

* * *

"So, um, you're Dad's brother, right?"

The man nodded, half-smiling at the question. "Yes, I am. And for the next question you are to ask me – yes, that makes me your uncle."

"I . . . see."

After the hour-worth of air travel, I had found myself walking together with some of the assigned "escorts" towards the alleged home my father had owned; wherein at the same time, the top brass of Japan's, no, maybe even the world's, largest criminal organization were housed.

The reaction I had after hearing of the news that Dad was alive and kicking as the current head of the possibly largest criminal organization was of pure and utter surprise. Imagine, someone who was supposed to be dead just getting out of his way to send some men out to find his son and tell him of news that he was to be the next boss of a criminal ring –

It was unbelievable.

Inconsiderate.

Although, meeting some Yakuza men utterly surprised me. My first impression of the bunch was the same as of that belonging to the common man and to otaku people alike – the Yakuza would be full of scary, weapon-wielding, tattooed, and ill-mannered men. They'd try to threaten me at any moment's notice, using their fear-empowered facial expressions to give me enough incentive to actually agree with them.

Funny how that impression was quickly crumpled like paper and thrown out of the recesses of my brain.

After boarding the helicopter, a few of them chatted good-naturedly about normal things like the news, the weather, or random things. Heck, one of them even offered me some sweets and onigiri! They'd ask me stuff about things I've known about Dad, or even just about Mom.

Glancing over to the man wearing sunglasses, Tatsuya Suou, his looks were very much similar to that of Dad's – hair color, eyes (his sunglasses don't really cover much of his eyes), complexion, and face shape. There was very little question as to whether he really was Dad's brother; and at the same time, my uncle.

Finally reaching the supposed main headquarters of the Yakuza, I was entirely shocked as I faced the gate leading to the estate—

It looked almost as large as Gekkoukan High.

"I know what you're thinking – it's as big as Gekkoukan, right? Well, to give you a rough image of how big it is exactly, I'd say about as big as three Gekkoukan Highs put together," Tatsuya-oji said.

_This guy must be an esper. He just casually read whatever was in my head._

After some more walking, we entered the Japanese style mansion (I know it's bigger than a mansion, but that's for a lack of a better word) and proceeded towards what I had assumed the main room where the Yakuza head, my Dad, would be located. As we passed by the long and winding halls, I was impressed by the indoor décor of the whole place – it was comparable to the design of homes I've seen in history books; homes that had belonged to rich Japanese. Heck, it may even be on par, perhaps better, than those made for royalty.

Ornate vases with prints varying from flowers, depiction of warriors, wondrous beasts, haikus, to even historical figures were placed on antique three-legged tables in proper places; artifact-like objects like katanas, oni masks, calligraphy scrolls, together with some photos and paintings were also hung on the walls, sort of making a lasting impression on the sense of sight.

Later on we had also passed by an open corridor, leading to a large garden area. A pond surrounded by marble stones was present, and I could spot some koi fish swimming about. The pond was shaped like the number 8, wherein a bridge stood over the narrower, central area. What truly completed the scenery was the large cherry blossom tree that draped the carpet with its shadow, formed by the large volume that the tree itself covered in the air. The tree itself was in bloom, and the gentle spring breeze that carried a few of the carnation petals could be felt up to where we walked.

It might have seemed like a clichéd scene coming from your usual anime or manga, but seeing it real like this sort of made it look like a very rare sight to see.

Soon enough, we had found ourselves in front of our destination. Facing us were two doors – painted with four creatures, and a fifth serpent-like animal in the center.

Tatsuya-oji cleared his throat, and had the look that he knew what had struck my curiosity. "Those are the Ssu-Ling. You may recognize them as some of the guardians in Buddhism or the likes; they consist of Suzaku, usually depicted as a peacock; Genbu, a turtle with a serpent for a tail; Seiryuu, a jade dragon; Byakko, a white tiger of sorts; and finally, in the center, Kohryu, the dragon that shines of an other-worldly golden light.

"We had chosen them as the sort of symbol for our generation of having the Yakuza be in singular collection – that instead of having so many groups, it has been limited to five groups, with one major leading group."

I nodded. "I see. But, why the Ssu-Ling? Is there any other meaning for it?"

Tatsuya-oji grinned at me, and answered. "Well, why not hear it straight from your old man?"

Seeing that he had a point, I agreed with him. Tatsuya-oji motioned for me to be the first to enter the door, and before I pulled the doors apart, the handles had felt heavier than lead, and anxiety filled my gut.

Having had to see my Dad, who was supposedly "dead" after having been missing for some time; who had been one of the major reasons for Mom's death; who had been unable to support us after he had left us for some job that had needed serious attention. . . .

Emotions I've locked up for some time now stirred up inside of me.

Anger. Pain. Sorrow. Hatred.

It was hard to hold them down.

I took in some air to calm myself down, and then felt a hand grip my shoulder. Tatsuya-oji looked at me with eyes of concern and, oddly enough, repentance.

"Take this. Maybe you'll feel a little better after doing what it is that I think you need to do – after all, I know the story, too. He was an utter idiot for having left Miyuki-nee and you just like that without any proper explanation. Even if he did have reasons too hard to break back then. . ."

Tatsuya-oji took my hand and placed something that felt like cool metal on my palm. It was a silver locket. I took it and held it gingerly, feeling an odd sense of warmth from the trinket. I opened the locket, and found an image that quickly tugged at my heartstrings in no time at all.

Engraved on the side of the lid was the name Miyuki Arisato, and the image it held was that of a pale woman, with features that could have rivaled any fair maiden's, and blue hair that was a shade brighter than mine. Her eyes were a soft color of ruby, and the small smile she had on could've melted any heart into a mushy fluid.

_Mom . . ._

". . . . give him the punch of a lifetime that he knows he deserves, 'kay, Kiddo?" Tatsuya-oji smiled.

As tears formed in my eyes, I tied the locket around my right hand's knuckles and looked back up to Tatsuya-oji. I blinked back the tears, grinned at him and moved towards the door.

Somehow, the handles felt a million times lighter than earlier.

_Don't worry Mom – I'll be sure to scold him for you, too._

* * *

Katsuya Suou, throughout the duration of the day, had seriously experienced a bad case of "butterflies in the stomach."

It was only the fourth time he had ever felt that sensation in the entirety of his life. The first was when he had proposed to his beloved Miyuki, which had ended up way too unexpectedly after he slipped and grabbed something soft off of Miyuki, leading to a red-faced Miyuki and a German suplex on concrete surface. Fortunately, he woke up in the hospital several hours later to a painful headache and a teary-eyed but nonetheless smiling Miyuki Arisato.

She had happily accepted his wedding proposal.

The second time he felt it was during his and Miyuki's wedding. After hearing the priest say "kiss the bride," he slipped his arms around his beloved Miyuki, only wanting to hold her by her waist. By mistake, his adrenaline-rushing and blanking out led him to moving his hands a few inches below and holding something else entirely. Miyuki squealed at that, which led to an embarrassing wedding photo of his newly-wed wife giving him yet another German suplex up on the altar.

The third time was when he had rushed Miyuki to the hospital, as it was already the time when they were expecting their future child. Once there and he had waited for long, painstaking hours, he was running back and forth the stairs leading to the small hall by the second floor, having lost how many times he had bought canned coffee to stay awake. After the umpteenth time, he was then called by the doctor, giving him the results; a baby boy at that, with specks of hair the same color as the mother's. He did a somersault in joy, and was then admitted into a hospital room minutes later after hitting one of the ceiling's fluorescent lamps.

And now, it was this. He was certain that his own son wasn't in any sort of mood to talk to his own father about matters concerning the very "profession" Katsuya had been in most of his life.

The Yakuza.

The trouble started way back during the time he had to leave his family – when a **certain group** had begun mobilizing in the Western hemisphere, he had heard from the previous head that **a traitor** and **an upstart** had made a public announcement concerning a challenge to all the strong, influential groups that made the world turn as it did. It was the beginning of an all-out war for power and domination.

And in the span of a few years, the enemy had already wiped out majority of the competition, barely having had to lift any finger or pulling on any string of sorts.

Leaving his family was the most painful decision he had to make. Why did he leave then, if he found it hard to even take a few steps away from Miyuki and young Makoto? He figured that the enemy may use _anything_ at their disposal to get rid of the opposition—

Coming to that point, what if they had gathered information about his family? No, he would certainly lose his mind should anything befall the light that shone upon his dark life filled with nothing but secrecy.

_In order to protect them . . . . the fastest way would be to end this conflict as soon as possible!_

Yet that was too ambitious of a thought; nay, it could even be said as only wishful thinking. And proven true, it was.

Miyuki had died.

His son fell into the dark corners of a heart belonging to one of abandon and emotions of void.

And what did Katsuya do? He chose to continue forward, and not looking back. It might have sounded so cruel to anyone else, but he had housed storms of troubled emotions inside his very soul.

Regret. _My son resents me._

Sorrow. _Dear . . . dear, Miyuki . . ._

After Miyuki was sent off by the remaining people who had remembered her, Katsuya began visiting the grave monthly, talking to Miyuki about the decisions he's made, apologizing for his misgivings, and drawing strength to face the son who he had left behind. And every time he rose up from the front of the grave, he would go on his way, and leave behind a blue rose.

_After all, Miyuki loved blue roses so much. . . She says it's the color hope, anyways._

Now was the time.

He had to stop running away from all that he had from in the past.

No matter how much it'd hurt and hit him in the face, he'd have to bear it; and make up for all that he's missed.

"After all, I've made Miyuki and Makoto suffer fates much worse," he'd told himself.

Sitting in the large hall together with his bodyguards (he didn't really need them, but nonetheless let them do their job out of respect) and some of the main higher-ups of the whole Yakuza, he patiently awaited the arrival of Tatsuya and the escorts. He was already expecting Makoto to decline the role – to live a life of normality, no matter how much it would hurt to be alone.

Serenity had painted his face, as he contemplated on the next step they had to take in the likely scenario that Makoto had rejected the offer he had made. In all honesty, Katsuya thought that his son had all right to do this. After all, resentment was the first thing that would be on the boy's mind; after all that he's been through after Miyuki's passing.

Hearing the doors to the room open, he stood up and felt no surprise seeing his little brother and the escorts walking into the room—

A flash of blue.

Fist connecting with face.

A feeling of cold metal.

Katsuya was knocked down to the ground, rubbing his left cheek. As he turned, three of the room's bodyguards had already moved in front of him. Realizing what had happened, his lips curled into a melancholic smile as he stood up.

"Junpei, Akihiko, Ryoji; there's no need for hostilities here. Back down."

The lad in purple dress shirt and black pants and coat sporting a baseball cap retorted. "Are you nuts, Suou-dono?! Someone was just _hostile_in front of you!"

"Junpei's right," the silver-haired teen spoke, "an act such as this, directed to the head no less, must be punished."

"I agree with Akihiko-san," said the last boy, Ryoji, "after all, 'an eye for an eye,' right?"

Katsuya signaled them to move back, and they did so, albeit reluctantly. As he faced forward, he finally cast his gaze towards his assailant.

"Hot-blooded, just like your mother." He smiled. "And here I thought you'd reject the whole thing."

"You don't understand, do you? Geez, what an idiot 'father' you are. Then let me make it clear. . ."

The blue-haired boy put out his right hand, balled into a fist. Wrapped around it was a familiar silver locket – something Katsuya easily recognized in one glance.

"I, Makoto Yuki, am here to hear what you have to say. . . ."

Makoto's eyes were fierce, unrelenting – determined even. A fire was lit in him, and Katsuya somehow saw what the boy was here for.

". . . . so you better start explaining already, Old Man. I – no, Mom and I are here to listen to you explain what the hell you've been up to."

* * *

**There. Seems to be more dramatic, but I found this to be important since this'll be one of the anchors that solidify the relationship between Makoto and his father, Katsuya. This was also needed to start off the character development of both of them. Hope that you guys still continue to read this.**

**And please, reviews are important. Account or no account, don't be afraid to leave behind a review. Please. IT MOTIVATES ME TO WRITE MORE. TT^TT**

**Anyways, hope you tune in for more.**

**~Arsony**


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